


Because of You

by CherryBlossomTree13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Motherhood, Multi, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 05:56:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18867118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryBlossomTree13/pseuds/CherryBlossomTree13
Summary: Hermione Granger-Weasley returns to work at the Ministry as Ronald stays home with the kids.At first the mother of two is horrified at having to work with Draco Malfoy, but she comes to find that the recent widower has changed much since their time at school.Dramione/Ronmione/Infidelity





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione Granger-Weasley, exhausted and weary, blinked back the onslaught of tears which threatened to escape her stinging eyes as she watched her husband storm about their kitchen.

“Honestly, Mione!” Ron huffed, slamming their dark cherry cabinets shut with a little more force than necessary. “I understand you're busy with the kids all day, but would it bloody kill you to tidy up a bit?” He moved on to throw Rose's half eaten remnants of a peanut butter sandwich into the bin with a huge sigh. “It's literally a wave of your wand!”

His wife of seven years glared at him, an unmistakable sense of resentment and wrath bubbling deep within her.

But a word never escaped her lips and she swallowed his remark as though it were absinthe, slowly feeling the ball of poison in her throat growing larger and larger with every unspoken word.

Hermione had learned long ago that arguing with the obstinate red-head only made matters worse, and she was too broken to fight.

Ronald turned around to look at her, his blue eyes softening just a fraction as he registered her unkempt hair, breast milk stained T-shirt and red rimmed eyes.

“I know it's tough work Hermione, but you have to try a bit harder.”

The young witch swallowed once more in reply.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy!”

Rose's mop of flaming red curls came flying into the room accompanied by her thunderous footsteps as she threw her tiny body at her father, arms stretched skywards in a silent demand to be picked up.

Ron's face brightened instantly, the deep scowl marring his brow a distant memory as he bent over to scoop their first born child into his arms who smiled just as brilliantly through a mouthful of pacifier.

Despite his faults as a husband, there was no denying that Ronald Bilius Weasley was an exceptional father.

And for that at least, Hermione was grateful.

A loud, distant cry from the loft made them jump as Hugo announced the end of his nap.

“You come with daddy to get baby?” Ron asked the two year old as though he expected her response to be anything more than gibberish.

The two left the kitchen, giving Hermione a sacred moment of peace and quiet.

The young woman took a deep sigh and walked over to the window, the cool winter air rebounding on her face as she breathed onto the frosty glass.

Everything looked so beautiful and cozy covered in a thick blanket of sparkling white snow. She remembered the days when such weather meant ice skating and hot cups of cocoa by the fire, curled up with a good book.

But now?

It meant nothing more than the start of cold and flu season, and a four month quest to find Rose's missing mittens which somehow seemed to evade every summoning charm in existence.

Hermione adored her children; more than anything else in the world. But having her world revolve around nap times and nappy changes, repeating the same mundane activities day in and day out without any real semblance of structure had broken her.

She needed to be working, out there making a difference in a way that meant using her sharp wit and intellect for more than coming up with new ways to sneak vegetables into the kids diets.

The witch, once so sure of her plans and aspirations for the future had undoubtedly lost herself amidst the relentless sea of motherhood and wifedom.

The latter of the two being far less rewarding.

Ron did small, thoughtful things for her, like making sure to put milk in her tea every morning, or planting flowers in their garden and picking her a bouquet just before the end of Summer.

But for every romantic gesture and compliment, there were at least ten different flaws he managed to point out on a daily basis.

A loud creak from the room upstairs brought the girl back to reality, and she turned to stare at the haphazard meal she'd scrounged together just before Ron had stepped out of the fireplace.

Deciding to liven up the cold perogies with some grated cheese, Hermione dashed for the refrigerator and extracted a block of cheddar.

_You have to try harder._

Ronald's words rang in her mind with all the crassness of a metal bell, but she steeled herself against his never ending criticisms and began to grate the cheese over their plates in a last ditch attempt to prove to herself that she could indeed _try harder._

 

* * *

 

 

The house was filled with the blissful sound of sleeping children and Hermione let out a weary sigh after a long day, throwing herself beside Ron on their plush duvet.

She laid face down in the bed for a few seconds, basking in the utter lack of screaming babies before rolling onto her side to stare at her husband.

He was reading a copy of the Daily Prophet and failed to bat an eyelash at the nudge his wife had inadvertently given him.

Hermione pursed her lips at him, trying to think of something to say when she caught the headline on the front page.

_MULTI-MILLION GALLEON DONATION GIVEN ANONYMOUSLY_

_The St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was given an astounding donation from an anonymous philanthropist. The seven figure sum was bequeathed to the Blood Curse and Ancient Magic Research Department, which until yesterday, was desperately underfunded._

_The donation was given on the eve of the late Astoria Malfoy's birthday, who died two years ago of a Blood Curse which severely weakened her body. She left behind an infant son and a devoted husband whom many have assumed to be the generous benefactor..._

Ron flourished the paper as he set it down on their nightstand, cutting short the tale of Astoria's tragedy.

A pang of pity shot through her at the memory of the quiet brunette who had been at Hogwarts, only two years behind herself.

She couldn't even imagine what that would be like - giving birth to a child, knowing that you would never be able to watch them grow up…

A shudder ran up her spine and she cast the dark thoughts away, hoping she would never have to face that reality.

Ron reached forward and snatched up the mobile phone she had so foolishly purchased for him last Christmas and loaded a game, still not having acknowledged his wife at all.

She glared at him for a few more seconds, hoping he would notice her before beginning to rap her fingers against the smooth, lilac bed sheets as the seconds ticked by.

Sighing internally, she gave up.

“So how was your day?” She asked colloquially, praying that he would take the bait so she could engage in a meaningful conversation with someone capable of speaking more than two syllables at a time.

“Alright,” he replied, not making eye contact.

“Just alright?”

He nodded once, utterly absorbed by the flashing screen.

“Anything exciting happen?”

“Not really.”

“Nothing at all…”

He shook his head.

"What about yesterday?"

Ron sighed, exasperated as he set the device down.

“It’s work, Mione! Not exactly exciting.”

Hermione screwed her face up at him.

“You’re an Auror, for Merlin's sake, not a mail clerk!”

Her husband glowered for a split second before his expression changed altogether.

“Not for much longer actually.”

The young witch sat up in the bed, her heart sinking at the look of guilt and shame on her partner’s freckled face.

“What happened?” She asked, hoping beyond hope that he hadn’t gotten Harry into trouble as well. "What did you do?"

“Nothing!" Ron declared, looking scandalized. "Well, at least not yet…”-- he reached a lanky arm behind his head and scratched his mop of ginger hair, struggling for words --“I...I want to quit.”

His wife stared blankly at him and after a long moment of silence, she relaxed her shoulders and smoothed out the creases in the sheets before opening her mouth.

She had to measure her next words very carefully - simply telling Ron that they couldn't afford to have him off work would just make the red-head defensive and unresponsive.

"You know I'll support you through anything, Ronald..."

"Thanks Mione," he whispered, closing a large freckled hand over hers.

She smiled; talking to Ron was like feeding a toddler - you had to offer something sweet along with the vegetables.

"But we're _just_ getting by on your wages, and I don't know how we'll manage long term if you're not working."

The ginger sighed heavily, releasing her palm and running his fingers through his hair.

"Well, I’ve been thinking about this for a few months now and...why don't we swap roles for a bit?"

"I don't understand," Hermione replied, trying to clear the deep scowl she wore before her husband commented on it.

"Why don't I stay home with the kids for a while and you go back to work?" The youngest Weasley boy posited the idea timidly and gauged her reaction like a book he was trying to read from across the room.

Hermione tried desperately not to let her expression betray her; on one hand she was ecstatic at the thought of scheduled breaks where she could eat lunch without another human clinging to her - and the thought of being able to pee with the door closed nearly made her giddy.

But on the other hand, she was terrified of going back to work and leaving her kids at home. She was afraid of all that should would miss out on if she was at Whitehall for nine hours a day.

More importantly, what would the kids do without her? What would they eat? She was certain her husband wasn’t going to start making Butternut squash macaroni for Hugo or cutting Rose’s sandwiches into snowflakes and dinosaurs.

No, as much as she craved the independence, she should refuse.

That's what a good mother would do...right?

"Look Ronald, I know you might think it's all fun and games at home--"

"I never said that."

“--But it's a lot of hard work keeping those two kids fed, cleaned, entertained and well rested all day long and I don't know how I feel about leaving them at home with-"

"Their father?" The red-head scoffed derisively, turning to give her a pointed look.

Hermione's shoulders slumped and she immediately felt like an arse. She knew she was overbearing and controlling - many arguments and fights having erupted over the past two and a half years over her unwavering ability to swoop in and cut short anything Ron did with the kids that didn't fit her standards of parenting.

She was about to reiterate her previous statement when he continued speaking.

"When I was younger, the thought of chasing down bad guys and bringing them to justice… it all seemed brilliant back then," Ronald paused, taking a deep breath as he twiddled his thumbs and stared at his knees. "But after the war…"

A thick knot formed in the back of Hermione's throat as she willed herself not to cry at the mere mention of those dark years while her husband furiously fought back his own tears.

"After everything we did, everyone we fought and everything we--" his voice cracked suddenly and Hermione felt the moisture escape from her eyes as she battled against memories of Fred, Remus and all the others they'd lost. "Everytime I raise my wand to bring someone down, I wonder if they've got brothers or sisters, or a wife and kids and the spell just dries up in my throat and -"

The red-head let out a frustrated growl as he viciously clawed at his long, leaking nose, turning away as though ashamed of what he had just confessed.

“I - I just can’t fight anymore.”

The young witch’s heart broke at the sound of sheer exhaustion in her partner’s voice and she quickly wiped away her own stinging tears before climbing over his gangly limbs to straddle him, cupping his face with her hands and forcing him to look at her.

They had both lost their childhood and adolescent years in a harrowing spiral of battles for the greater good against the Dark Lord and his followers. They had seen and done things at the tender age of twelve that most children couldn't conjure up in their wildest dreams. They had paid the price for their children’s freedom and bore the scars to prove it; scars that were carved into their flesh and some that were burned into their brains, announcing themselves in the dead of night only to disappear in a wake of strangled screams and uncontrollable sobbing.

And only they understood.

"You don't ever have to go back,” Hermione promised, wiping the tears away from her husband’s eyes. And it was true - they would figure something out. Whether it meant she went back to work, or that they blew through their savings until Ron found something that made him happy.

She only wished he had said something sooner.

Ronald ducked his head and nuzzled into the crook of her neck while she stroked his mop of ginger locks soothingly, burying her nose into the sea of fiery hair and inhaling deeply.

The fresh scent which wafted into her nostrils calmed her heart, reminding her of the Amortentia she had sniffed those many years ago in Professor Slughorn’s classroom:

Freshly mown grass, new parchment, spearmint toothpaste and the last smell she had failed to blurt out had been this - the close, comforting scent of Ronald Weasley’s hair.

They sat like that for a long time before her husband gave her a tight squeeze and released her, turning off the lamp with a wave of his hand as he sniffled a few more times.

“Love you, Mione.”

“I love you too,” Hermione whispered, snuggling closer to Ron as he wrapped his arms around her tightly before they both fell asleep in each other’s embrace for the first time in far too long.


	2. Chapter Two

It had been two weeks since their talk and Hermione suddenly found herself squeezing into her pre-Hugo business pants, growling in frustration as the buttons refused to close over the sad pouch of distended flab which hung like a clingy friend onto her midsection.

She reached for her wand to mend the waist but found herself staring down blankly at her crotch, the spell having completely evaded her.

Cursing again, she ripped off the pinstripe trousers and rifled through her closet for the tenth time, finally opting for a wonderfully forgiving dress and a pair of extra slimming pantyhose.

"Okay, you can do this...relax," she coached herself, undoing her hair and redoing the chignon again in some vain hope that it might make her look more like a businesswoman rather than a nervous wreck whose breasts were already leaking with her son's breakfast.

"Mental that one, I'm telling you."

Ron's voice made her jump and she rounded on him with a scowl which evaporated when she saw him balancing both bleary-eyed children on either arm, a small smile playing across his lips as he looked her up and down.

"What?" Hermione asked, instantly on the defensive as she began checking her rear in case she had accidentally sat in vomit or peanut butter.

Her husband laughed and shook his head, setting Rose down on the floor who immediately started whining to be picked up again.

"You look great, just try and relax."

The young witch took a deep, steadying breath and nodded.

She could do this.

"Mommy! Mommy?"

"I've left a few bottles of pumped breast milk in the fridge and some pasta for Hugo. Rose won't touch anything unless it's in the shape of a snowflake, so just keep that in mind."

Ron nodded, still smirking at her like she'd lost her mind.

"Mommy!"

"They usually have snacks around ten, then Hugo goes down for his first nap while Rose does some colouring. She's been really fond of that purple one with the farm animals Ginny bought her."

"Mommy!"

"Bloody hell, woman, we'll be fine!" Her husband laughed, practically shoving her out the door.

"I know, and don't swear in front of Rose!"

"MOMMY!"

"What is it!" Hermione rounded on her daughter with a hint of exasperation in her voice, quickly regretting her tone as she tried to make amends by smiling at her firstborn. "What do you need, sweetheart?"

"Mommy play? Mommy play Rose!" The fiery haired toddler declared proudly, smiling brilliantly as though her words were gospel.

"Mommy's going to work, pumpkin," she explained gently, bending over to give the girl a peck on the forehead.

"Come on, let's go make some breakfast," Ron offered, surely diverting a tantrum as Rose flew towards the kitchen screaming for cupcakes at the top of her lungs.

Hugo was already squirming to be put down and as soon as Ronald released the crawling menace, Hermione began to quickly unzip her dress.

"Er…" Her husband stared at her as though she'd grown horns. A slight look of shock painted his features before he quickly grinned from ear to ear, a spark of mischievousness glinting in his blue eyes. "If I knew this was how you'd say goodbye, I would have let you go to work years ago!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh, shooing her overly amorous partner away while he tried desperately to grab anything he could get a hold of.

"Ronald, get off," she laughed, bending over to scoop up Hugo off the floor. "I have to feed him before I leave!"

"And you needed to undress for that?" He huffed, still grinning.

She hadn't seen her husband this happy in a long time.

"Do you have any idea how messy these things are?" She asked, brandishing the ten month old at him. "I'm not showing up to my first day of work with milk stains on my clothes."

"Tease," the red-head accused, giving her a playful jostle as he walked past her and into the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, Hermione was redressed and giving a teary eyed farewell to her family, one polished pump in the fireplace and the other rooted firmly to the laminate floors of her living room.

"And I left a few pages of helpful tips and tricks for you on the table!"

"You left me an instruction manual - that thing was colour coded, Mione."

"Just promise me you'll use it!"

"I promise, now get out."

Ronald shoved her into the brick hearth, balancing Hugo on his hip as he held onto a teary eyed toddler.

"Mommy no work! Mommy stay!"

Hermione burst into tears at her daughter's request and quickly grabbed a handful of Floo Powder before she lost her nerve altogether.

"We'll be okay. Just have fun."

Her husband blew her a kiss and smiled, holding onto their children as Mrs. Granger-Weasley shouted "Atrium, Ministry of Magic" through a spray of tears and saliva and watched her home disappear from in front of her.

* * *

 

"Just this way," a pretty, blonde witch by the name of Chastity led Hermione to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

The blonde was slim and clipped along effortlessly in a pair of shiny blue stilettos as she looked back to throw a dazzling smile at the mother of two, who despite herself, was left feeling like a toad in the other woman's wake.

The only child of the Granger's self consciously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, smoothing out the powder blue dress and giving Chastity a warm smile, regardless of her own insecurities.

Hermione was so nervous that she was sure the plain waffle she'd scarfed down this morning was bound to make a reappearance.

It was not only her first day back at work, but apparently her first day in a new department altogether.

Hermione Granger was not a person who enjoyed being surprised - she craved control in almost all areas of her life and finding her first few minutes back at work as chaotic as her time at home was unsettling.

As if she wasn't under enough stress to begin with.

She thought she'd be back at her crammed desk on the fourth floor, buried under heaps of parchment on outdated creature regulations and preposterous laws. She even had a new agenda she wanted to push this time around; free distribution of Wolfsbane potion to those who needed it and equal rights to the Werewolves who still suffered from the stigma of their condition.

But all those plans had to scrapped.

Thankfully, having children had made her _far_ more flexible and accustomed to expecting the unexpected.

Were there many tears and mental breakdowns along the way? Of course, but Hermione had learned that sometimes you just needed to "go with the flow."

And that's what she was doing right now, as best as she could, while the awful let-down reflex in her breasts made her thank Merlin for the extra nursing pads she'd stuffed in there this morning.

"They're right in that office," Chastity relayed, pointing politely towards a set of closed doors ahead.

Hermione nodded at the other woman and forced herself to smile, the rapid beating of her heart nearly making her vision blurry as she waited until the witch was out of sight before discreetly sniffing her underarms to make sure the copious amount of sweat she was producing was still odourless.

Grateful for the sleeveless ensemble, the brunette fanned her armpits frantically before smoothing her hair and grabbing hold of the door handle.

_You can do this._

Yanking on the frame, she stepped carefully into the cool room and was greeted by four faces sitting around a circular table.

The bright, smiling visage of an older woman dressed head to toe in black and a young man with sea green eyes caught her attention for a split second and she smiled back, breathlessly introducing herself as she scanned the rest of the room.

That was when her heart nearly dropped out of her stomach.

Seated at the chair furthest from the door was a familiar man with bleach blonde hair that glinted in the harsh fluorescent lights and a pair of cold, blue-grey eyes which quietly studied her form.

Draco Malfoy.

  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

She didn't know what her expression relayed, but his presence left Hermione feeling like she'd been punched in the gut.

Whatever she had been expecting on her first day back, it had not been this.

She wasn't ready to face the person who had all but destroyed her self esteem with his relentless taunting and teasing. The same person who had done everything in his power to ruin and convolute everything she and her friends planned. The same boy who had labelled her as a Mudblood.

The same  _man_  who had done nothing while his aunt had carved the word into her flesh with a knife.

Hermione's scar burned; the crazed, dark eyes of Bellatrix swimming in front of her while she fought with everything she could muster not to begin hyperventilating.

Draco's eyes were guarded and while he failed to make eye contact, she noticed him frown when she clutched her arm to her chest. She suddenly worried that he could read the slur from across the room.

"Are you alright?"

The third witch, who was wearing crushed velvet robes of deep fuchsia got out of her seat, hesitant to cross the floor and help the scared little girl who stood like a deer in the headlights at the front of the room.

It took a split second of deep, calming breaths before Hermione could nod unsurely, forcing another smile to her lips as she fell into a high-backed leather chair which had been graciously moved behind her.

"Just a bit overwhelming,"-she cleared her throat which had become inexplicably dry and tried again-"being back at work and all."

Her colleagues nodded sympathetically, and the man with the sea green eyes poured her a tall glass of water which she accepted gratefully with a pair of shaking hands.

She noticed out of the corner of her eye that the only child of Lucius and Narcissa quietly got up from the table and left the room.

She breathed a sigh of relief and took a long sip of water before readdressing her new co-workers with a fraction of increased confidence.

* * *

"Alright, I think that just about sums up the admin work, any questions?" Tilda McCrae, the elderly woman in black, snapped shut a folder and passed it over to Hermione who had returned to her calm, collected self.

"I don't think so," the young witch said with a smile, retrieving the file which contained all of her new hire documents.

"Perfect, we'll break for tea and then meet back here to discuss the project you'll be working on for the next little while."

Hermione nodded, a faint feeling of excitement bubbling within her at the thought of an actual work project. An adult task that didn't involve wiping poop or cutting fruit gummies out of hair.

Tilda smiled, she was the head of Magical Law Enforcement and the young man beside her was Charles - her personal assistant.

The two got up and began walking out of the room when McCrae poked her head back in, addressing the fuchsia clad woman.

"Tahiri, will you find Malfoy and let him know that he's needed for this next part?"

Granger's heart sunk again at the mention of the man, wondering how long she had to work in a department before she could request a transfer.

Zahra gave her superior a curt nod and made a move to leave before Hermione stopped her.

"Sorry, do you know anywhere I can go to pump?" She asked sheepishly, reflexively crossing her arms over her chest.

Her breasts felt like they were about to explode.

Tahiri grimaced as she wracked her brain.

"There's a private washroom down the hall?" She offered unsurely.

Hermione bit her tongue, offering the russet skinned woman a genuine smile before thanking her.

Tahiri had given the new employee her best suggestion and it wasn't her fault that Hermione didn't want to pump her son's food in the same place people went to relieve bodily waste.

She wondered if she could run to Harry's office and pump there, but by the time she made it to the Auror department, assembled her damn machine and began pumping, she'd have to leave again.

Left with no choice, the dejected mother made her way to the bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind her as she turned to face herself in the enormous mirror.

Her eyes looked tired, the small bit of mascara she'd applied this morning had already smeared behind her eyelids and her chignon was a frizzy mess.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled out the breast pump from her beaded purse, eventually setting up her store on the fancy marble counter.

She carefully unzipped her dress again and laid it over the gold towel rack before hooking herself up to be milked.

Hermione retrieved a banana from the depths of her purse and peeled the fruit, knowing that in a few minutes she would be starving.

Feeling overlooked, misplaced and utterly alone, she stood half-naked in the middle of the washroom and began blinking back her tears as the monotonous buzzing of the pump filled the air.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Mrs. Granger-Weasley was redressed and had recovered from the second emotional breakdown of the morning.

She was in the process of untangling the insufferable pump tubes when she opened the door to leave the bathroom.

She was paying so much attention to dissassembling the machine that she nearly ran headfirst into a figure dressed in black.

"Sorry, I-" Hermione's words died in her throat when she saw that it was Malfoy.

She immediately stepped backwards and felt her expression harden as the blonde quickly scanned the device in her arms before glancing back at the lavatory door.

The faintest trace of a scowl settled on his features as his icy gaze returned to the pump in her arms.

Hermione had an incredible urge to punch the prick in the face, but somehow resisted temptation. Instead she recalled the satisfying crunch beneath her fist the first time she had hit him square on the nose at the age of thirteen.

Who the hell was he to judge her?

No doubt he was worried that her Mudblood breast milk might be all over the walls.

She was about to walk away when he abruptly stepped around his former schoolmate and disappeared into the loo, leaving her in a cloud of bergamot, leather and a surprisingly sweet whisper of rose petals.

She snorted out the smell as though it had burned her nostrils and crammed the breastpump back into her beaded purse before clip clopping angrily down the corridor towards the conference room.

That absolute bastard was the last person she wanted to see - let alone work with - but that was the last time she would be caught off guard by the arrogant bully. She had spent her adolescence being tortured by him and wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of thinking he still had the same affect on her, nearly a decade later.

She burst into the room with an angry huff but the sight of nearly a dozen fluffy pastries and gourmet bagels wiped the scowl clean off her face.

Her stomach rumbled in response and she had to stop herself from running head first into the trays of strudels and eclairs.

Instead she carefully smoothed out her dress and took a seat as far away from the one Malfoy had previously occupied.

She poured herself another glass of water and looked around the empty room, wondering who brought the desserts when the doors opened and Charles walked in talking animatedly to Tilda about the latest Puddlemere United match. Zahra followed close behind, holding a polystyrene cup of steaming tea as she nodded at Draco who closed the door behind him. The blonde continued to whisper something to the tall Kenyan woman and she nodded again before all four of them took a seat around Hermione.

"Right, so before we get started let's get the important stuff out of the way - everyone help yourselves," McCrae grinned waving her hands towards the pastries before loading a cornetto onto her plate.

Everyone chuckled and despite her desire to mow down the rest of the people in the room to get to the chocolate eclairs, she waited for the others to select their choices before grabbing her prize.

She noticed with an internal eye roll that Draco hadn't touched the food.

"So, down to business," McCrae continued through a mouthful of custard. "Everyone in this room knows that the last two wizarding wars were a direct result of Pureblood elitism."

Hermione nearly choked on her water.

"You guys are here because  _together_ , we're going to eliminate the archaic laws and outlandish attitudes towards Muggleborns and Half-Bloods."

The Hogwarts graduate honestly had no idea how to react to Tilda's statement. She wanted more than anything to be a part of this movement - to help protect children like herself who were still bullied and rejected because of their blood status.

But McCrae had definitely picked the wrong team if she thought Draco Malfoy was going to do anything but scoff at her remark. She half expected the blonde to get up and throw a glass of water in the old woman's face before threatening to tell his father of what she'd dared to utter.

But Charles looked at his boss proudly, Tahiri nodded enthusiastically and Draco simply frowned at the table as though it were a tragic play.

Tilda seemed to sense Hermione's reservations and continued to elaborate, giving the newest employee a pointed look.

" _Every_  person in this room is here because they have something monumental to offer. Tahiri was the head of an organized movement against Voldemort's followers in Nairobi and is now the department head of International Magical Cooperation."

Charles let out a loud holler and began clapping.

Hermione laughed and so did McCrae and Tahiri.

"Granger-Weasley and Malfoy…" There was a short pause while she looked at both of them, a deep look of pity in her brown eyes. "You're both here because I want you to be the faces of our campaign."

"Why  _us_?" Hermione blurted out, confusion and irritation evident in her tone. "Why not you and Tahiri?"

"Because I don't deal with press releases or bullshit," Zahra replied bluntly, sitting back in her seat.

"Because Malfoy still has strong ties with the remaining Pureblood families who defected before or after the war, and they are far more likely to listen to reason if it's coming from one of their own. They need someone who came back from the elitist brainwashing. Someone who came back from Voldemort's side and is now doing something to make a difference."

Hermione forced down the bile at the back of her throat. Bitterness making her refuse to believe any of the things Tilda had said about his reformed character.

"And Granger, you're here because I literally have no one better to represent the Muggleborns of the world. You are living, breathing proof that Muggleborns are not only equal to us, but among the  _best_  of us all."

Her throat felt like it was closing and she could sense - with a hint of panic - another emotional breakdown peering over her shoulder.

The young witch quickly took an enormous bite of the chocolate eclair and immediately felt the sweet, false sense of happiness wash through her, keeping the ugly monster named anxiety at bay.

"Hermione, I specifically asked for you when I found out you were coming back to work. That's why you're not buried under Creature Regulation Codes right now."

The mother of two nearly scoffed, taking another bite of the pastry as she tried desperately not to cry. She would much rather be buried under parchment than here.

She'd made a terrible mistake coming back to work. Her hormones were all over the place and she had the emotional stability of a toddler.

"This is going to be a long, difficult fight and I need you and Malfoy working  _together_  in close quarters if this is going to work."

There was a palpable silence in the conference room as all eyes landed on her and Draco.

"Are you guys up to the task?"

Hermione nearly got up and walked out. She was so close, but remembered her promise to herself. She was done letting the memory of a teenage boy crush her self worth. She would work with Draco and she would let him see how strong she had become because of all she'd been through.

The young woman nodded curtly in response as Draco did the same.

"Excellent, now we can move onto the minutiae."

* * *

Nearly two hours later, the team broke again for lunch.

Hermione was sweating like a cow and her breasts were ready to pop again.

She was the first to leave the room as she needed to pump first.

The young woman quietly made her way down the corridor towards the washroom when she heard the sound of someone running towards her.

She whipped around to see the striking figure of Zahra closing in on her, smiling widely as she waved the confused girl over.

"You don't have to pump in the toilet anymore, someone told me there's a free room down the next hall - number 306."

Hermione blinked back her surprise.

"Oh...thank you. That's brilliant!"

The Kenyan smiled and waved goodbye as she departed.

Granger-Weasley followed her colleague's directions until she came to Room 306.

She opened the door and was pleasantly surprised at the spacious office; it was furnished with teal sofas with big pillows, a table and a small cooler at the foot of the large oak desk.

Hermione grinned from ear to ear, locking the door behind her and drawing the curtains as she plopped down on the cushy couch, failing to register the scent of bergamot, leather and rose petals.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

* * *

"For she's a jolly good fellow, for she's a jolly good fellow - and so say all of us!"

"Good lord, Harry stop it," Hermione covered her face which was an alarming shade of red as she snatched the bouquet of Stargazer lilies out of her best friend's hand.

Harry grinned, fixing his round glasses as he turned to face the few people milling about in the halls.

In many ways, the Boy-Who-Lived hadn't changed at all since the first day she'd met him. He still had a headful of unruly black hair that stuck out in every direction, a thin, wiry frame and a kind, goofy personality that always managed to earn him a clout from Hermione.

"Wait, there's one more verse." He took a deep breath, ready to start bellowing the remainder of the song when she smacked the back of his head with her flowers.

"Shut up!" The girl hissed, trying desperately to seem menacing despite the smile which refused to leave her face.

Auror Potter had completely surprised her, showing up unannounced at the front counter with a bouquet and card to celebrate his friend's first day back at work.

It was a sweet and wonderful gesture that instantly brightened her day - until he'd started singing.

"Right, what does the working mom fancy for her first lunch without kids?" Harry asked, fiddling with her coat as he held it out for her.

"Merlin, I don't even know," Hermione answered, wracking her brain as they entered the lift. She figured something comforting would be nice. "How about a chip butty?"

The Auror screwed his face up at her. "This is your first lunch in two years without kids and you want chips on white bread smothered in butter?"

"Well, not when you put it like that…" The young witch replied haughtily.

"No, no - it's your choice," Harry said with his hands up in a show of concession. "I just thought you might want to go somewhere a bit more posh."

"After the morning I've had, I just want something lowkey," Hermione muttered as they exited the lift and stepped out into the bustling Atrium.

"Why, what's happened?"

"It's been rough being away from Hugo and Rose. I keep wondering if they're being fed properly or if they're crying for me," the mother sighed wearily, trying not to let her worries get the best of her.

"You know, despite what you  _might_  think, Ron is a grown man - he can take care of those kids just as well as you," Harry said, clasping his arm around her shoulders.

"I know, it's probably harder for me than it is for them."

"Exactly."

"I guess I'm just looking for a way out," Hermione declared, shrugging.

"Out of...?"

She sighed.

"Working with Draco Malfoy for the foreseeable future."

Harry stopped in his tracks.

"What?"

Hermione began to explain all that had transpired that morning as they made their way to a small pub across the street from Whitehall, slowed down only by her careful tiptoeing around patches of ice - Winter and high heels did not go well together.

"That's tough luck, Hermione," Harry offered quietly. The expression on her friend's face was sympathetic but she could tell from his eyes that he was keeping something from her.

"What is it?"

"Hmm?"

"That face - you only make that face when you're trying to keep your mouth shut."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh please, Harry. I've known you since you were eleven, you're going to have to try harder if you want to lie to me," Hermione declared, taking a bite out of her butty.

Her best friend of nearly twenty years shook his head in defeat, swallowing a huge mouthful of bangers and mash.

"It's just...we've all changed since the war. Maybe Malfoy has too," Harry explained, shrugging.

Hermione gawked at him.

"Are you  _defending_  Draco Malfoy?" She asked incredulously, trying to hide the outrage in her tone.

The wizard sighed, putting his fork down as he reached over the table to grab his friend's hand.

"I just don't want you to miss out on this campaign. We're adults now, and even back then - he knew he was on the wrong side towards the end."

"So I should just forgive him for everything he said and did to us because he happened to realize he was on the losing side?"

Harry squeezed her hand before returning to his lunch, scarfing down the potatoes.

"All i'm sayin' is tha'-"Harry swallowed and chased down the mash with a glass of water-"Hermione Granger is too mature - and far too clever - to let that ferret get in her way. If he  _has_ changed, then great. If he hasn't, then you move on with your life and hope the next year passes quickly."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her friend while she took another bite of her sandwich, chewing on her lunch and Harry's words while the two ate in silence.

"I like your dress," he added after a while. "I noticed that you haven't bothered covering  _it_  up," Potter said suddenly, his eyes still carefully on his plate while he chewed.

The girl instantly grabbed her forearm, knowing exactly what her friend was referring to.

"As much as I hate it, it's a part of me now," she said with a slight grimace. She had tried everything to get rid of the ugly scar after the war, but the sadistic Death Eater had cursed her blade.

No spell or procedure could ever get rid of it.

"No point in being ashamed of it. That's exactly what B-" the woman pursed her lips, forcing herself to say the name-" _Bellatrix_  would have wanted."

Harry positively beamed at his mate.

"I'm proud of you, Hermione."

The two shared a long look, wordlessly exchanging their love and support for one another.

They ate the rest of their meal in contented silence and after they had finished, the Auror took a swig of his drink and cleared his throat to speak.

"Are you lot free this weekend?"

"As far as I know."

"Brilliant, then you can come over for dinner!" Harry said brightly. "Ginny and I have got some news."

Hermione glared at the son of James and Lilly Potter with wide, unblinking eyes.

"Harry...is Ginny…?"

The father of two grinned.

"HARRY!?" The witch cupped her hands over her mouth to keep from squealing with delight, instantly jumping headlong to her own conclusions. "Is Ginny pregnant?"

"Oh, would you look at the time!" The dark haired man said with a small smirk, checking his non existent wristwatch as he got up and pulled on his coat.

"Harry James Potter, you tell me this  _instant!_ " Hermione demanded, getting up to smack him on the shoulder.

"I don't know, you'll have to ask Ginny when you see her on Saturday." The Auror was thoroughly enjoying himself as he put a few muggle notes on the table. "Although if she isn't pregnant and you accuse her, she might hex you for calling her fat."

"Harry!"

But the man was already halfway towards the exit, beckoning her to come along while he smiled wickedly.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a post-lunch, sleepy blur that made Hermione nearly holler with joy when Charles brought in a tray of coffee for the team.

She had barely been able to keep her eyes open, but forced herself to stifle yawn after yawn as she furiously scribbled notes while McCrae broke down the campaign into four stages.

Stage one would start tomorrow and last until the New Year, until which time the team had been tasked with finding and cataloging all of the existing laws regarding Purebloods and Muggleborns.

This elicited long groans from everyone except Hermione.

Yes, it would be time consuming and tedious, but it meant she got to spend the next 3 months burying her nose into old legislations and statutes, highlighting notes and possibly colour coding an entire room full of parchment - and she was being paid for it!

The thought made her stomach fill with butterflies.

Stage two would include proposing and re-writing the laws with revisions or choosing to abolish them altogether.

Stage three was to be spent spreading public awareness about the campaign and to gain support for the movement - this is where McCrae noted that Hermione and Draco would be monumental in swaying opinion and favour.

Stage four was lobbying, and finally having ministry officials vote on the changes made to their legislations.

All in all, it was going to be a long, hard fought process that Tilda optimistically quoted as a "year-long-struggle."

Whatever the case, Mrs. Granger-Weasley was enthusiastic about the project, and as her colleagues began saying goodbye and collecting their items, she gave them a genuine smile.

Looking around, Hermione noticed that no one else had bothered to take notes, let alone 10 pages worth.

"Merlin, I didn't think I'd talked  _that_ much," McCrae joked, eyeing the impressive stack of parchment the newest employee was trying to sort through.

"No, no! You didn't - it's just an old habit of mine," Hermione explained sheepishly, quickly throwing the pages into a pile before standing up to leave.

"Keep it up, it's brilliant," Tilda praised as she beamed at her new recruit.

The young witch couldn't help but grin - her old days spent as teacher's lap dog shining through as she was filled with satisfaction at her boss' remark.

A quiet scoff shattered the happy moment as Hermione noticed Draco roll his icy, blue-grey eyes as he got up to take his exit.

The woman grit her teeth at him, but remembered Harry's words - there was no way she was going to let a ferret like Malfoy get in the way of her happiness.

McCrae and Charles were the first ones out the door, followed closely by Tahiri and Malfoy. The blonde took one glance to his right, saw that she wasn't directly behind him, and let the door fall shut.

_What a gentleman, s_ he thought sarcastically.

Before she could take another step, she saw a small square of paper flutter from Draco's form and land face down on the floor as the door closed.

Hermione paused for a moment, her initial reaction was to go and stomp her heel through whatever it was that he'd dropped. However, she kept reminding herself that she was no longer an emotionally unstable 13 year old.

No, she was better than that- she was an emotionally unstable 27 year old and they did not stomp their heels through things.

Perhaps she should just leave it on the floor and walk out the door, but after a few more seconds of pursing her lips at it, her curiosity got the best of her.

Carefully kneeling down, the girl plucked the glossy paper from the azure carpet and instantly realized from the weight and feel of the item that it was photograph.

She gingerly turned it over.

Two bright, smiling faces greeted Hermione and she immediately recognized Draco - his platinum blonde hair shone just as brightly but it was tousled and messy, his pearl grey eyes were tired but ecstatic and brimming with tears, and his smile - it was completely and utterly foreign.

She had never, in the seven years at Hogwarts with the boy, seen him relay anything on his features that wasn't a smug smirk or a condescending grin. But this...it was genuine and it left Hermione feeling as though she had just seen the true form of a Boggart and discovered it to be utterly harmless.

The second face in the picture took a moment of staring until she realized that it was Astoria.

Or what was left of her at the time.

Hermione felt her own eyes well with moisture as she put her hand to her mouth in abject horror.

The striking brunette, once the image of youth and vitality had been reduced to a withered husk of her former self.

Her green eyes has sunken an inch into her face, which was sallow and pale. Her skin looked leathery and tight, as though she hadn't eaten in months. And her hair was thin and wispy, as though her body was too weak to keep replacing any that she might have lost.

Despite her desiccated appearance, Astoria's smile was as bright and beautiful as it had always been. She grinned widely and looked at her husband who was staring affectionately at the small bundle wrapped in her frail arms.

Mrs. Malfoy pecked the baby on the forehead just as Draco leaned in to do the same to his wife.

Both parents beamed at each other, completely lost in their new world and Hermione quickly turned the photo back over.

She sat there for a few seconds, unsure of how to feel and even more unsure of what to do with the memento.

Perhaps she  _should have_  just left it there on the floor; but knowing what she knew now, there's no way she could let it stay where it could be accidentally trodden on.

As much as she might have despised Malfoy, the keepsake was a stark reminder of everything he had been through in the past two years, and suddenly her hatred turned halfway into pity.

Not knowing what else to do, Hermione pocketed the photograph and stood up, ready to head home after a long day of mixed emotions.

She couldn't help but think of Draco and his little family as they had been once - together, happy and full of love, while a small part of her hoped that he would eventually find someone else to share his heartwarming smile with.


End file.
